


Dear Clinton

by steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb



Category: Avengers: Age of Ultron - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chapters are going to be super short, Coulson is a good bro, F/M, Natasha is a cool bro also, Will incorporate as many comic/movie things that will fit, eventual spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb/pseuds/steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Letters written by Laura at different points in her relationship with Clint, starting from the time they meet until the events of Age of Ultron and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September 13, 1997

Dear Clinton,

Today I met you for the first time, in the medical center. I was the one who stitched up your shoulder after the fifteen minutes of fighting with three other agents just to get you to sit still. I'll have you know that I didn't think it was possible for a dirty, malnourished junior agent to put up so much of a fuss over a few stitches and I've dealt with toddlers who've taken shots better than the way you behaved. If anything the two hours you actually slept once you stopped flirting and let me finish was probably the first time you slept in an actual bed in years, if I'm supposed to believe your circus story. 

To be honest, I have no idea what SHIELD sees in you. You're insubordinate, uneducated, and _not_ as funny as you think you are. Actually, you hardly stopped talking the entire time I was stitching your shoulder. And I know it's some kind of defense mechanism because that shot probably hurt more than you let on. I've heard things about you from other agents, good things, but I can see why the higher ups are reluctant to promote you. I know I wouldn't, but thank God you're not assigned to medical. 

You're sweet, though, in your own way. Kind of innocent. And I don't understand how you can get shot and break bones and have concussions but still need to ask if the antiseptic is going to hurt every time I start dabbing at a new cut. Your file is bigger than one of my textbooks, and how on Earth are you not part robot at this point? I'm pretty sure the only bone in your body that has not been broken yet is your tailbone. I probably just jinxed myself, now that I think about it. 

Keep asking to go for drinks, maybe one day I'll say yes.

Yours,  
Laura


	2. June 25, 1999

Dear Clinton,

Today you brought me cake for my birthday.

Not a whole cake, just a little square from a deli down a few blocks away. I'm sorry for thinking you were some kind of stalker for a few minutes; Linda didn't tell me that she told you it's my birthday. At least you came into medical for something _other_ than me putting you back together again. But then I wondered what you were doing there in the first place. 

I like listening to your stories about the circus, although I'm not sure how much of them are true. They're the only times I ever truly see you happy, whether you're aware of that or not. When you laugh the corners of your eyes crinkle and you don't even try to hold it in, it's different than the way you laugh when you're trying to be snarky to the commanders or just trying to show off. Other agents talk about you, usually they're pissed off at you for one reason or another so I know when your exploits are...exaggerated. And you exaggerate plenty. But I don't think the stories about the circus are a stretch, at least not as much as your agent stories. You're not as good at fibbing as you think you are, and I'm pretty sure the other agents are either too intimidated or too amused to tell you that. 

You asked me if we could go to dinner at some diner across town. I guess I will see you tomorrow night.

Yours,  
Laura


	3. June 18th, 2000

Dear Clinton,

Today I brought you cake for your birthday.

Not a whole cake, just a little square from the deli a few blocks away. I didn't even notice that our birthdays are so close together until I dropped your file the other day and had to put it back together. Why didn't you tell me last year? 

In the entire four years I've known you this is the first time I've seen you at work but outside of medical. It looks like you just try to annoy Agent Coulson all day for some reason. You're meant to be out in the field, that much is easy to tell. I think since you grew up outdoors you don't like being inside for very long. Maybe that's why you don't like medical either, since the head nurse makes you stay in bed all day (and even with multiple broken bones you still try to escape). 

You talked about your brother today. He sounded like a good guy, even though you kept saying he wasn't. You kept calling him an asshole, actually. But I can tell you love him despite all the times you've fought. And you do that a lot; you badmouth people to their faces or get on their nerves but then say only good things behind their backs. That's a weird way of showing people you like them, you know. Pushing people away then wondering why they don't like you leads to a very lonely life. But you do care about people, that's easy to tell.

Yours,  
Laura


	4. February 20th, 2001

Dear Clinton,

Today you introduced me to your wife. The one you met less than two weeks ago. Bobbi seems nice. She's snarky like you and doesn't let anything get to her. I hope you're happy with her.

Yours,  
Laura


	5. July 8th, 2001

Dear Clinton,

You've said before you don't believe Heaven exists, but I'd like to think that's where your little one is. And I know your mom is taking care of him.

Yours,  
Laura


	6. December 25th, 2001

Dear Clinton,

Today I brought you some leftovers. I'm sorry it wasn't much, I just didn't want you to spend Christmas alone and I wasn't sure what to give you. You didn't talk about Bobbi at all, you didn't say much of anything really, but you actually slept for more than an hour. I know because you slept through most of that movie they play every year. 

It's been a while since you've been in medical, and I know that's supposed to be a good thing but I've missed you being there. Especially on days where everything is going wrong, sometimes I wish you were there just to make the day better. I've gone to your desk once or twice just to make sure you're okay but you were on a mission both times. I'm just glad you're okay. More people care about you than you realize.

Merry Christmas,  
Laura


	7. September 9th, 2002

Dear Clinton,

Today you kissed me for the first time.

I wasn't sure if you actually meant to do it either because it was the end of our date and you started to walk away, but then you turned around kissed me. It was in front of my apartment building, and you didn't even ask to come inside or anything afterward. I asked if you wanted to, but you said you didn't want to ruin the night. 

As many times as we've gone to that diner individually for each others' birthdays or some other random special events, it was the first time we've been together. Based on the amount you can eat in one sitting I'm pretty sure your SHIELD salary is actually keeping them in business, but I know you have to eat quite a bit to keep up with the amount of muscle you have. 

It was nice to see you smile again. And I think you enjoyed feeling good again, at least for a little while. You're leaving for Russia in the morning, and I'm going to miss you until you get back. Please be careful.

Yours,  
Laura


	8. May 23, 2004

Dear Clinton,

Today you asked me to marry you.

You asked me at the little diner, after we went to a movie and while I was drinking coffee. You didn't have a ring or anything fancy like that; you said you didn't know "how they work" and wasn't sure how to size one. That's alright, neither of us would be able to wear one at work anyway.

I don't think either of us realized when we fell in love. It just sort of happened. We fell into a routine of visiting each other, then those became more frequent. Eventually you just started showing up at my apartment. I didn't mind, it's nice having someone else to share my home with. And soon we are going to share our lives.

Linda said I should be worried, especially after everything with Bobbi. Well, I've certainly known you longer than a week. It's almost been ten years, actually. And I've loved every minute of it. I'm not worried;". Well, I'm worried that one day you won't come back home. Our home. 

We didn't set a date or anything yet. Neither of us are in much of a hurry.

Love,  
Laura


	9. September 18th, 2004

Dear Clinton,

Today I became Laura Barton. 

I know the groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the wedding, but you never really cared for convention. That and you didn't know how to actually tie a bowtie. Good thing I grew up with three brothers. And you were handsome in your suit, although I'm fairly certain it's the first time you've worn a tuxedo in your life.

We were going to wait until next year to get married, but you didn't want to do that. You were afraid that between the night we were engaged and a wedding a year later something would happen in between. So we sped things up a bit and got married in Iowa. I wasn't sure why you chose Iowa of all places, not until I saw the farm where you grew up. We were married on the front porch, and the only people who came besides the officiant were Agent Coulson and Natasha. 

I was a little concerned as to why Natasha was there, until you explained why. You wanted her to know that despite terrible things happening in life, love can still defy untold odds, no matter where a person comes from or what they've done in life. She seems like a good person, I just don't think she knows it yet. A lot of people said the same thing about you when you were closer to her age. Sometimes I think you still don't see it in yourself.

We haven't figured out who is moving into which apartment; one of them is going to be turned over to SHIELD to be used as a safehouse anyway and they're about the same size so it really doesn't matter to me. Home is wherever you are.

Love,  
Laura Barton, née Hermann


	10. January 3rd, 2005

Dear Clinton,

Today I told you about our baby, but you weren't awake to hear it.

The doctor told me you may never wake up, but I'm not letting you go that easily. You're a fighter; you've made it this far (somehow) and Nat said when you wake up you're going to be super pissed off about how this happened. 

You've been saying ever since we were engaged that New York is too dangerous a place to live. I always assumed that as a SHIELD agent you would be able to stop something as small as a mugging but whoever did this was smart. They knocked you out first, most likely with a crowbar based on the shape of your skull fracture. That was before the doctors completely opened the back of your head to relieve some of the pressure. Now your head is covered in bandages.

Your brother stopped by, and I told him about the baby. He told me not to name the baby after either of you. I like your brother, he's like you in that even in the face of something awful he will still be sarcastic and funny to try and make others feel better. Barney talked to my belly also, even though I'm not showing in any way and I don't even think the baby has ears yet. He said "don't be a dumbass like your dad, kid. Or your Uncle Barney. Be smart like your mama." Then he left, after he told me not to tell you he stopped by. 

Nat has been here with me the entire time. She's been so sweet to me; she brought dinner when I didn't even realize I was hungry. This isn't the first time either of us have sat with you while you were in the hospital. But this is the first time there was ever a concern that you wouldn't go home. You have to wake up, though. This baby needs its daddy. Nat needs her friend. I just need you.

Love,  
Laura


	11. August 5th, 2005

Dear Clinton,

Today we met our son.

You caught him at 3:25 this morning after the doctor showed you what to do. And he's so beautiful. When his little face scrunches he looks just like you when you laugh. You spent about ten minutes just looking at his tiny fingers and even tinier toes.

The last time we were here together, doctors were telling me you wouldn't wake up. But you did, two weeks later. I was only ten weeks along at that point, and I'm so happy you were awake to watch him grow. You spent hours with your head on my belly listening to him, or waiting to feel him kick. Most of the time he was stubborn and wouldn't even after I poked and prodded at him to wake up. The first time you felt him kick was around 24 weeks, after we found out he's a little boy. And now he's here, his lips puckered at your shoulder trying to find something to nurse. You're so proud of him. And I know you don't want to put him down but he has to eat and sleep at some point. And so do you.

We named him Charles Cooper, after your brother. I know Barney didn't want us to name Cooper after him, but I've always liked the name Charles. You chose the name Cooper after someone in the circus. 

Anytime he cries you make jokes about him being "cooped up" in places, whether it's his blanket or the room or his mobile crib. At least you're done making nesting jokes, those got old really fast. 

Ive never seen you so proud as when you were standing there with Cooper screaming in the most fragile kazoo-wail I've ever heard. The first person Cooper met in this world was his daddy, and so many months ago I was terrified he wouldn't meet you at all. But here you are, playing with the little tuft of hair on his head while he eats. Any squeak he makes while he nurses makes you smile, and I can tell you're hopelessly in love with all seven pounds of him. 

We can take him home in a few days, so for now let's just enjoy our son.

Love,  
Laura (and Cooper)


	12. December 18th, 2005

Dear Clinton,

Today you woke up nearly screaming, and I didn't know what to do.

It's not the first time you've had this type of nightmare, but it's the first one you've had since Cooper's been home. When we first brought him home from the hospital you'd wake up about every five minutes because he stretched and squeaked in his little bassinett next to the bed, but tonight was different. You woke up and scrambled off the bed as if you didn't recognize me.

He sleeps on my side of the bed so I don't have to get up to nurse him at night, and I'm glad we put him on that side. You jumped out of the bed so fast I'm sure if Cooper was on your side you would've knocked the bassinett over. I tried calling your name, asking what's wrong, but you looked so...caged. Like you didn't know who I was. Then Cooper started crying and you moved like you were trying to grab an arrow from your quiver, so I picked him up and went to the kitchen.

You waited until Cooper stopped crying to open the door, but you didn't leave the bedroom. Just called for me and said you were going to take a shower, that you were okay and would leave the door open so I wouldn't worry. A few times after a mission you'd come home and get in the shower but just stand there as if you were mentally on a different planet. Sometimes when I'm scrubbing the dirt and the blood from your back while you sit in the bathtub, you just aren't there. I can see it in your eyes. But tonight you looked so scared and cornered.

I'm sorry, honey, but I had to call Phil. The last time I called him you were mopey and complained about it for a week, and I could put up with that, but I didn't want to risk anything when our son was even remotely involved. I felt so bad for leaving you alone in the room, I didn't know what to do. Sometimes, before Cooper was born, you'd jerk awake from a nightmare and we could talk through that. When you woke up shaking and sweating from a dream that you couldn't remember by the time you stopped breathing heavily, it was easier to talk you down again. But tonight I panicked and ran, and I can't forgive myself for it. 

Phil came and took all the weapons from our room, stuffing what would fit into a duffle bag that he would take back to his office. But he didn't take _you_. He talked with you in the living room for a few hours so I could sleep until it was time to feed Cooper again. And when I woke up again and walked out with Cooper attached to my breast, you made a joke about Phil being able to see. I knew you would be okay then. Phil never told me what you two talked about, and I didn't want to push the subject any further, so I still don't know what you were dreaming about to make you so upset. 

Natasha came by that afternoon to check on you and stayed for dinner, althouh she said it was so I could eat in peace without being interrupted by my "two" babies. She loves Cooper. She thinks she's some type of killing machine, but she's so gentle with him and so patient. Since Coop is now able to smile and reach for things Natasha didn't set him down for nearly two hours until it was his nap time again. Even then, she didn't put him down right away.

I asked her why she thought herself so cold and emotionless with adults but not around Cooper. "Love is for children," she said. And she loves him. She loves you, in her own way, or she wouldn't be here poking fun at you and telling me that she's going to steal our baby. I guess other women would be worried or jealous or something, but Natasha knows you in a way that you've kept hidden from me, and I can't take that away from you. You can tell her the scary things, she knows how it feels to take lives, to bring a life back, to make decisions that can affect history. And you need someone who knows that feeling, someone who you can leave all that pain with for a few days while you're home and take it back when you leave. You need Natasha, just like she needs you. Sometimes things slip through, like tonight, but thankfully it's a rare occurrence. 

After she left you held Cooper close and rocked in the rocking chair, the one in his nursery that he never sleeps in. I know you felt guilty about it all. And when you laid him in the crib for a bit, and I was able to hug you, you cried into my shoulder. "I'm so sorry," you kept repeating. Well, you did until Cooper woke up and started giggling at his feet (he's always in a better mood after a nap, like his daddy). After that you whiped your face with a clean burp cloth and picked him up again to play, llike nothing happened. I'm glad you feel safe enough to cry in front of me, I love that you trust me enough to do so. And I hope Cooper grows up knowing that it's okay to feel sad, to be scared, to cry and to need people sometimes. It's taken you a very long time to learn that, I'm sure it still feels foreign. 

Cooper has you wrapped around each one of his fingers. Our baby boy smiles and you simply melt, he coos and you turn into a goofy mess trying to get him to babble. Before he was born you worried that you would be like your father, but now that he's here it's like you're using your childhood to tell you what _not_ to do. You would never hurt him, or me. Please trust yourself enough to know that.

Love,  
Laura

P.S. You still haven't beaten Natasha's record for fastest diaper change.


End file.
